


Strange Love

by Jya



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Caretaking, Hate to Love, M/M, PWP, Sexual Content, Smut, Suitable, You Should Have Come to Shiratorizawa, omg is that really a tag??, ushioi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-11-23 03:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11394483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jya/pseuds/Jya
Summary: “Are you serious, Oikawa? Ushijima? When the fuck did this start?!”“I don’t… I don’t know.”A lie.I’ve gotten so good at lying.I know why.People will think it’s strange. He’s strange. I’m strange.~ We wrote a story in the fog on the windows that night ~





	1. I hate you maybe

**Author's Note:**

> Well this happened...

“Are you serious, Oikawa? Ushijima? When the fuck did this start?!”

My best friend’s words are demanding if not a little frantic. As if he didn’t know something was going on.

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

A lie.

I’ve gotten so good at lying. I don’t even know why.

Why can’t I just admit it out loud?

I know why.

I’ll tell myself it’s not politically correct, or that he doesn’t want people to know. But that’s just more lies.

People will think it’s strange. He’s strange. I’m strange.

“You don’t know…” Iwaizumi’s eyebrows are raised almost to his hairline. He knows I’m full of shit.

I do know though. I know exactly when it started. I can’t ever forget that day.

For more reasons than one…

* * *

ACT I – failure again

> _post prefectural finals, year 1 of high school_

Failure. Swirling around me like never before. It’s the same thing, but because it happened again, it feels so much worse.

I thought we had it.

Our team was strong. So much stronger than in middle school.

I’m stronger. We had the better six.

But still it didn’t matter. Still, it wasn’t enough.

I pull my knees closer to my chest, feeling the familiar cold of the gymnasium floor beneath me. My throat is raw, my eyes swollen and my nose a mess. My hair is stuck to my forehead from my shower and dripping down the back of my neck.

I can’t stop crying.

The room is dark around me, the lights turned off, the only thing illuminating the room is the last of the gloomy daylight pouring in through the small windows near the ceiling.

My serve actually hit one of those windows. It was so powerful, ricocheting off Shiratorizawa’s libero. It felt so strong.

The hours, days, nights I poured into perfecting it… it seemed like it was going to pay off.

But that was how it was before, too. It always feels good, but it still ends in failure.

No matter what I do, I still can’t beat him. It isn’t even about going to Nationals anymore.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I hear the door open, but it doesn’t register until footsteps have found their way to me, and a long pair of legs in court shoes is standing next to me.

“Oikawa.”

The voice is deep and too familiar.

I look up, realizing a moment too late that my face is tear-streaked and puffy.

Idiot.

Of course… of course it’s him.

A part of me knew it as soon as it clicked in my mind that someone had entered the gym.

Who the hell else would be here, ready to practice after winning a national qualifier?

I would. That’s who else.

He catches my eye, his face stoic as ever, and I tear my gaze away. As if misfortune hasn’t enveloped me enough already today. Of course he’d find me like this.

“Why are you still here?”

So blunt! Wow!

I turn my head to the side in a dramatic pout. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.

“You know, you really should have – ”

“DON’T SAY IT!” I shout, knowing where this is going. “DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING SAY IT!”

I look up again, this time intentionally meeting his eye. Dark brown eyes stare into my own, but I realize now they aren’t entirely dark; there’s a hint of olive to them that warms them slightly. Even so, his gaze is completely hardened. I’ve never seen him appear any other way. I wonder if it’s a façade, or is he really just that ruthless?

He just shrugs his shoulders and walks away.

I squint my eyes as blinding light fills the room.

My contact lenses burn as I try to force my eyes open. I really need to take them out.

I pull my knees closer against my chest as I hear another door open. More people?

No, the next thing I hear is the unmistakable sound of wheels on a cart. I turn my head sideways to have my suspicions confirmed. Ushijima is dragging the ball cart onto the floor.

I continue to watch as he picks the middle court, so not the one I’m sitting in the corner of, but also not the farthest one.

He practices as if I’m not there, hitting serve after serve. It’s amazing that he still has energy left after the match we played. He must be some kind of monster.

But then, I already knew that.

I continue to watch his serves, critiquing them from every angle.

He jumps higher than me, hits the ball harder, lands better and has better control. It feels as though each serve is aimed directly at my chest, and the reason I lost is standing right in front of me.

But I can’t move. I can’t take my eyes off of him.

His form is beautiful, his movements graceful.

I hate him so much.

But I can’t look away.

I don’t know how long I watch him before he finally looks at me again.

“Why are you still here?” He asks flatly, his voice echoing around the gym. It surrounds me.

I look away again. “I can’t get up.” My words are soft and are no match for his booming voice.

“What was that?”

“I can’t fucking stand.” I shout this time. There’s no way he doesn’t hear me.

I expect him to question me further, but he doesn’t. I stare down, silently pleading with him to walk away.

I’m about to bury my chin deeper in my knees when strong arms find their way around me, quickly sweeping me up off the floor. It’s like it’s effortless.

“What are you doing?” I demand.

But he doesn’t reply. I start squirming, desperate to get away from him, but he just holds on tighter. My knee protests as I kick, but I don’t stop.

“What the hell Ushiwaka!?”

“Shh,” he hushes me.

His chest is warm and hard and strong. His arms are the same. The scent surrounding him is still fresh somehow, like soap and pine. There’s something endearing about it.

_No, this is Ushiwaka._

He somehow shoulders both of our bags and kicks off the lights.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” I continue to squirm.

“Will you hold still? I _will_ throw you over my shoulder.”

“Whatever Shrek! Just let me go!”

He shifts his grip on me, and I’m waiting for him to make good on his promise and chuck me over his shoulder, but he simply moves my arm around his neck and adjusts me in his arms.

I’m speechless. Completely speechless. I can feel my eyes nearly popping out of my head, my jaw dropping to the floor.

I fight further, trying to get him to let me down but he digs his thumb into my hip and I cry out. It both tickles and hurts.

“Just hold still,” he says, his voice completely calm.

“This is considered kidnapping you know…” I’m breathing hard, but there isn’t much conviction left in my voice. I’m exhausted and while I really don’t like this person, I like to think he’s not going to take me into the forest and murder me.

He continues to ‘shh’ me, and it’s almost soothing.

I have no idea how long we walked. I do know that by the time we reach a door and Ushijima is fiddling to unlock it, I’m freezing cold, my hair feels like ice and I’m half asleep. My body aches in protest as I’m dropped onto a couch, and I curl closer onto myself.

After a moment I raise my head up from the soft brown couch, glancing around at the mostly dark room. I’m on a folded up futon, which appears pressed against the wall. Across from me is a television and a computer desk. There’s a bright light coming from what looks like a kitchen to the left, and there’s another door hanging open to the right – the bathroom, I assume. The room smells like… cinnamon and oranges. I look around and find a basket that looks like a gift, filled with Christmassy ornaments. That must be the source of the smell.

I nearly forgot about the holiday season approaching. I’ve been so focused on…

“Is this your place?” The words escape me before I realize it.

“No, I took you to some random stranger’s place.”

“I didn’t realize you knew what sarcasm was,” I spit back. “Why am I here?”

“Because it’s nearly 11:00pm and I wasn’t going to leave you on the floor in the gym.”

“So you do have a heart,” I grumble to myself.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

_Sure, now you have the hearing of a cat._

“K but seriously, why am I here? I don’t like you and you don’t like me. I should leave.”

“I like you fine,” Ushijima says.

I stare up at him, squinting my eyes. I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or just stupid.

“Um, sorry, but are you the same person who I played against today. I’m pretty sure you hate my guts just as much as I hate yours.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “That was a match. You should really ice your knee.”

“Wha – but – how do you know?”

My knee has been bothering me for weeks, but I haven’t told anyone. Part way through the game it felt like it gave up and it’s been in agony ever since.

“I was standing across the court from you. Don’t tell me no one else on your team noticed? Then again if they did, I don’t think they’d leaving you sitting on my court with no way to get home.”

“Iwa-chan probably did…” I trail off. He notices everything. I basically had to fight with him to make him leave. I should probably check my phone; I’m sure he’s called me a hundred times.

Ushijima drops to the floor next to the couch and my eyes go wide. He has an ice pack and bandages with him, and he piles a couple of pillows up, gesturing for me to put my leg up.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” My words are laced with pain as straightening the joint makes it feel like it’s on fire.

I watch him carefully, studying his eyes and looking for any sign of softening around his brows. Maybe his expression does loosen up. He doesn’t take his eyes off my knee, setting the ice on a thin towel on my knee then securing it with the elastic bandage.

He shrugs his shoulders. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“I really thought you hated me.”

“I’ve been begging you to come to my school for over 3 years. Why would I hate you?”

“I figured you just wanted me because I was good.”

“You _are_ good, but that wasn’t the only reason.”

_Pfft, not good enough._

“Lie down properly and keep your leg up,” he says, his arms under me, attempting to shift me into a better position. “Do you really hate me that much?” He’s still sitting beside the couch but he turns his back to me.

I stare at the back of his hairline. It’s a bit long, and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck are overgrown as if he needs it cut. The tag on his hoody is sticking up just slightly, and I resist the urge to fix it.

He’s human, just like me.

I guess I hadn’t thought of him like that before.

He’s always just been this insurmountable wall that I needed to conquer in order to feel like I’m good enough.

“H-how did you get so good?” I can’t believe I’m asking.

“I don’t know. Practice?” He mumbles

“Fuck you think I don’t practice?!”

“You think you’re not good?” He counters.

“I – why can’t I beat you?”

“Because your team is weak. It isn’t you. Even as a first year, you’re arguably the best setter in the prefecture.”

I feel my face flush and my chest attempt to swell with pride, but I refuse to let it. Volleyball is a team sport. And one on one, I still couldn’t beat him.

“I don’t hate you…” the words fall out of my mouth into a mess on the couch beneath me, filled with disgust and revulsion. I can’t believe I’m saying that.

It’s getting hot. Unbearably hot, even with the December chill outside and the ice on my leg. The air is too warm. I can see the fog on the inside of the windows already.

“Oikawa,” he says, turning around to face me. He’s at eye level with me, so close.

“You should have – ”

“Shut up!” I lurch toward him, grabbing his head in my left arm and pull him close, locking my lips aggressively with his.

It’s true though. I don’t hate him. I can’t. He didn’t do anything wrong. There’s nothing to hold against him.

I can however, hate myself.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY OIKAWA!!! <3   
> (it's still his birthday in my timezone!)

“Ushijima.”

“Oikawa? What are you doing here?”

“Watching, of course,” I reply.

Ok, so it’s as weird as I’d expected it to be. Why would it not be? It’s been what, a week? A fucking brutal week to say the least.

I took one day off of school then went back. Of course when I went back it was to a fucking pool of pity. The volleyball star lost. Whoopdeedoo. Not to mention no matter how many pills I take, I’m still limping. Iwa-chan is all over me to get it looked at but what’s the point? We’re done for the year.

Somehow, I find myself in Tokyo on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. A Sunday where I could be doing _anything_ and everything else. Yet here I am.

I hid in the back of course. I always do. But somehow after the game while I sat off to the side of the exit, I couldn’t just leave. It’s been two hours since the match ended and he hasn’t left yet. It’s getting dark and the gym is empty. I haven’t seen someone leave the building in over half an hour.

There’s only one answer. There’s no way he snuck out undetected.

I get a weird look from a janitor as I enter the building, but I ignore it. It isn’t _that_ late after all. It’s gotten fairly dark out, and someone has dimmed the lights in the building. I guess that’s the indication to get the fuck out?

Whatever.

I attempt to walk lightly despite my stupid limp, listening carefully for movement around me.

I spot the change rooms and press my ear against each one of them. No noise.

The gym?

Apparently not, I find myself thinking as I look through the small window designed so that the person on the other side won’t get smacked with a door when it opens.

The lights are still on, but the gym is empty.

I keep walking, and my eyes fall on a bathroom door. I’m almost certain I can hear the constant drum of the shower.

Bingo.

I’m still not 100% sure it’s him, so I make my way slowly toward the door. It’s open a crack, and I push it painfully slowly, finding myself face to face with a purple and white team duffel bag strewn across the floor.

“Ushijima,” I say loudly.

A shocked stillness, then movement against the steady stream of the shower. The tap is turned off, and the drops take a moment to settle.

And then he’s there. Tall, naked, thick, in all his glory. But not entirely. His face is flushed, and I doubt it has anything to do with the temperature of the water. His eyes are red and puffy. It’s a look I know all too well. The look of defeat.

“Oikawa?” he asks, attempting to keep his voice even. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching of course.” I try to keep my face blank, but what I’m seeing rattles me. I knew they lost. I could see the look on his face when he missed his last spike. But it still looks out of place. He always has that stern look on his face, and yet now it’s completely gone.

“Why?”

I shrug my shoulders, finding any sense of an answer lost as I try to keep my eyes on his face. Thankfully he picks up his towel and wraps it around his waist.

“Are you happy? You get to see me fall apart this time?”

I’m caught off guard by his words. To be completely honest, that’s exactly why I was here in the first place. I wanted to see him lose, to see him completely crushed, just as I was a week ago.

“You’re not kidding either of us. I know what you’re doing here.”

“Ever think maybe I Just wanted to watch some good volleyball?”

“Even if that was true, it wasn’t good. I got destroyed.” His words are bitter as he takes another towel and dries his hair, leaving it standing at awkward angles. It looks different, but it’s… good.

“I? I’m pretty sure that was a team effort, was it not?”

“What?”

“The team with the better six will always win,” I offer.

“Pfft, who told you that? Your idiot husband?”

“As if I could be so lucky,” I mumble bitterly.

“You know, if you had come to Shi – ”

“AHHH NO! SHHH” I quickly overcome his voice with my own. “I don’t want to hear it.”

He averts his gaze, his eyes landing on my leg. “How’s your knee?”

“It’s… seen better days,” I admit.

“I bet you walked all the way from the train station, didn’t you?” He asks, sounding both judgmental and annoyed. He steps closer.

I don’t respond.

“And you’re not even wearing a brace are you? God when are you going to start taking this game seriously?”

Before I realize what I’m doing, I slap him across the face. Hard.

“You insult Iwa-chan, and now you’re trying to tell me I don’t take my game seriously?” My words are demanding, and I’m right in his face now.

“What kind of idiot goes to Aoba Josai when they have the option of Shiratorizawa?!”

“I will hit you again!”

“Do it, I fucking dare you,” he says, his face inches from mine.

I hesitate, all desire to hit him evaporating from me. His bangs fall into his eyes with the weight of the water clinging to the strands. He would look vulnerable if not for the fire behind his eyes. Fire fueled by the sting of defeat. I know it too well. That feeling of fire racing through your body, burning as it goes.

I can feel myself breathing quickly, matching the rise and fall of his chest and shoulders.

I stare into his eyes, feeling the contrast between the warm olive colour and the heavy crease in his brow, its like fire and ice, and its tempting as hell. I lift my hand to brush away the stray hair, but he catches me, grasping my wrist tight. I step back, but find myself pressed against the wall. I can feel the fire on his skin, igniting in my arm and travelling down my body, waking it up in a way I wasn’t aware was possible.

“Wha-”

I’m cut off as his lips press against mine. His left hand finds my right, and he lifts above my head, pining it against my left.

I gasp for breath as the fire spreads to my chest, burning me from the inside out, but he presses his body against me hard, effectively immobilizing me as he continues his assault on my mouth.

But something in me manages to slow down. Maybe it’s exhaustion, maybe it’s acceptance, but I feel my body relax and allow myself to be held there. It’s not like I can get away anyway. He’s so strong, and he’s using all of his weight to keep me there.

I let myself go and completely give myself to him, feeling his tongue exploring my mouth. I bring my tongue to move with his, leading him in direction but not in pace.

He breaks the kiss and pulls back, his eyes bearing heavily into mine, his gaze heavy and ferocious as he leads with his brow, his chin tilted back.

“What are you doing?” I ask, meaning for it to sound at least mildly threatening, but it comes out breathy as though I’m gasping for oxygen. Which I am.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, approaching me again, but this time turning at the last second. His lips find my neck and he sucks gently, sending a shiver through my spine straight to my dick. I nearly jump, and an audible moan escapes my lips.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he says continuing to kiss up to my ear, then sinking his teeth into the skin just above my collarbone.

“Oh god,” I whine, all sense of control lost as I sag in his grasp, my breathing loud and labored. He is completely undoing me and all he’s done is kiss me. “Fuck,” I whisper, feeling the tightness in my pants as he presses harder against me, grinding himself against my crotch.

I drop my head, and he pins both my wrists in his left hand, his right finding my chin and tilting it up to meet his lips again. He kisses softly and quickly then pulls off, leaving me begging for more. He comes in again and nibbles my lip, then bites it hard. I cry out, but end up subconsciously thrusting toward him.

He pulls back and grins. “So needy,” He says, taking a step back and letting his towel fall from his hips.

I want to retort, but I can hardly breathe, let alone speak.

His hair falls back down in to his eyes, and he uses his bicep to brush it back. His body is completely ripped, his muscles pumped from the exercise, and his impressive cock is standing proudly, pulsing, not completely hard, but certainly at attention.

He catches me staring and he smirks at me.

“What about you?” He says, roughly grabbing the bulge in my jeans.

“Hngg,” I whine, biting my tongue to try to keep quiet, but obviously I fail. My body tenses again, but he’s still close enough to me that I can’t move, and he still has my wrists in an iron tight grip.

“A little excited, are we?”

He gently massages me through my jeans, and it feels absolutely torturous as my dick struggles to straighten properly, confined within my tight pants.

It’s like time slows down as he continues to touch me. The room feels too hot, he’s too close, and the smell of the heat, the sweat, the impending sex is toxic, but all I can do is inhale it all in attempt to get enough oxygen. I tilt my head up, and the lights are nearly blinding. It’s growing dark, and the windows are fogged up now.

“What do you want, Oikawa?” He says, gripping my groin tightly, just missing the parts of me that are begging to be touched.

He squeezes again, tearing another moan from me.

“You’re like an animal,” he says, dragging his fingers from back to front between my legs, making me moan further, “growling at me like that.”

He lets go of my wrists and I fall to the floor, completely unstable and unable to hold myself up. I know it has nothing to do with my knee either.

And I’m face to face with his thick, dark, impressive dick.

I hear a sharp intake of breath, as though he’s going to say something. But apparently the thinks better of it, and remains silent.

It’s like a magnetic force. Without even thinking, I’m sucking him.

Now he’s tense.

About fucking time.

In one swift motion, I have nearly his entire length down my throat and I’m sucking _hard_. I have no gag reflex, and for that he’s damn lucky since he’s so long. All I can think about is where else I want that long cock. I feel my own twitch at the thought.

I slide myself back, pulling him out of my mouth, keeping only the tip in my mouth, using my hands to pull back his foreskin, running my tongue around the ridge. He moans and buries his hands in my hair, roughly pulling my hair and shoving himself back fully into my mouth. I have to throw my hands out to catch myself as he fucks my mouth. But holy shit is it _hot._

I let him do as he pleases, stroking myself as I suck him until finally he pulls me off. He’s hard as a rock and panting hard now, all of his earlier composure has melted into this sweaty, muscular, panting man. He reaches into his bag on the bench beside him, a small foil packet in his hand. He rips it apart and quickly sheaths himself.

He eyes me as I carefully stand up. I slowly lift the hem of my shirt, moving to raise it up over my chest and shoulders, but he’s on me again, tearing my shirt off impatiently. His mouth finds mine. He multitasks like no one I’ve ever seen, aggressively kissing my mouth, biting my lip while simultaneously undoing the button on my jeans. His hands are amazingly quick and coordinated, pulling my pants down, then moving more slowly to the waistband of my underwear. He tests me, slipping his fingers down the back, sliding his hands along my skin. I can feel the calluses on his hands as he brings them around my hips. His lips leave mine and return to my neck, kissing, then lightly nibbling his way up to my ear.

I throw my head back, hardly realizing what he’s doing, all I know is intensity and warmth and good. I can hear his tense breathing through his nose as he sucks my earlobe, and I cry out as he bites it, all feelings going straight for my cock, which he finally releases from its fabric prison. He wraps his hand around me and begins to pump, and I can feel myself losing it.

“Fuckkkk,” I moan, forming my first coherent word in what feels like forever.

He tears his mouth off of my and grabs me, swinging me around so he’s behind me, forcing me forward onto the counter so that I’m nearly leaning in the sink.

He takes hold of my cock once more, squeezing hard and pulling the pre-cum off of me. I assume he uses it to lube himself up, and then I feel his fingers probing at my entrance. His left hand continues to work on my dick and his right he uses to stretch me. I drop my head, nearly bashing it on the faucet, unable to hold myself up any longer. Everything feels so outstanding, and I feel like I could just lean here while he fucks me straight out of this world. I couldn’t care less.

And then he’s inside me. It hurts as much as it feels amazing, but instead of balancing itself out, it feels absolutely gloriously amplified and I cry out as he slams into my prostate. Over. And. Over.

“FUCKKKKK!” I cry out loudly as he bites my shoulder, ramming hard at just the right angle. I come hard, spilling all over myself and the counter and the sink. One more thrust and he releases a low, throaty growl, then collapses on top of me.

I gasp for air, and I’m not sure if its because he’s crushing me or just the intensity of the situation, but holy fuck. Just… holy fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos SO appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> I heard a song... and this happened.   
> kudos/comments greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Thank you for reading


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